ust have asked mother to take care of these things for
her. It is queer that she never thought of speaking of them to me. I
must write her I have seen them, for I should not wish her to feel I
had been prying," Betty finished, going back to the trunk and putting
the little things carefully away.

The weight that had gathered pressingly in the neighborhood of Polly's
heart in the past thirty seconds now lifted.

"Yes, and do close up that tiresome trunk at once Betty Ashton, or I am
going home," Polly scolded. "It bores me dreadfully to have you and
Mollie poking in there when we might be talking."

But Betty paid no heed to her, for she had found another photograph of
a different character. It was a picture of another baby, a beautiful
miniature so delicately tinted that the colors were almost like life.
And the child's face was very like Mrs. Ashton's, the same flaxen hair
and light blue eyes. And it bore no possible resemblance either to
Richard Ashton or to Betty. However, there was no reason to consider
its being either one of them, for it was plainly marked on the back,
"Phyllis Ashton," and then had the date of the birth.

Betty offered no comment and expressed no wonder, although she let both
her friends look at the picture, still holding it in her own hands.

"But I thought you said your mother had only two children, you and
Dick," Mollie declared, and Polly would have liked to shake her.

"Yes, I did think so until now," the third girl replied. And placing
her picture back in the trunk, she closed the lid, still leaving the
trunk in the center of the room, in spite of the fact that both her
friends insisted on helping her with it into the closet.

Then Betty began making tea on her alcohol lamp and talking of other
things; only Polly could see that her mind was not in the least upon
what she was saying, but that she was thinking of something else every
possible second.

Whether to go or to stay with her friend was Polly's present
indecision. However, she and Molly remained until Mrs. Ashton had
returned from her drive and Betty went into her mother's room to assist
in taking off her wraps.

CHAPTER XXI

BETTY FINDS OUT

It was Monday afternoon and the March weather held an alluring
suggestion of spring.

Running along the street with her red coat scarcely fastened and her
hat at a totally wrong angle upon her head, Polly O'Neill showed no
concern for exterior conditions.

Finding